


The Man Who Cared Too Much

by hollowghostling



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Broken Dream, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Endings Are Hard, Gen, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sadness, all other characters other than Dream are only really mentioned, literal brain rot, no beta we die like dream: sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29129400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowghostling/pseuds/hollowghostling
Summary: In which Dream knows that bringing the server together comes at a steep price, but he does it anyway.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 330
Collections: dream-centric discord comp.





	The Man Who Cared Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> discord name: hollow  
> theme: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort  
> first round: blind & broken Dream  
> TW/CW: mentions of manipulation, implied neglect, character death

Dream knew that bringing the server together would come with trials unlike any he had ever faced before. He was aware of the hurt that would plague his friends and family, was aware of the hurt that would batter him down until he felt like giving up. He was prepared; he hardened his heart, encased it in icy thorns and locked his empathy behind closed doors, only crumbling when he was alone. 

The first time he has a breakdown, he cries until he’s dry heaving, tears streaming down his face, working as hard as they can to erase his agony and pain. He clutched his stomach then, arms wrapped around himself in a pseudo hug, and the tears fell down harder, emotions falling through his fingers with the power of a waterfall.

Dream doesn’t know when he began to put other’s pain before his own, when he became almost obsessed with making sure he played his cards right to ensure they all hated him. The man does, however, remember how his actions began to seem more and more unreasonable to the two people he cared most about, how eventually upon exploding in anger while taking down an obsidian wall block by block, they turned their backs on him and left him truly alone.

Later that night, he remembered with absolute clarity seeing his face in a mirror, a single crystalline tear slowly trailing down his face as a broken smile spread itself on his lips. He could feel his heart shatter from where it lay in its thorny prison, and he adds more layers, vowing never to show any weakness again for it was something he couldn’t afford. He ignored when his chest began to ache constantly, pushing down every emotion he could possibly feel until he was numb.

While his best friends hated him now, it wasn’t enough. He needed more people to despise him, to see him as the tyrant Wilbur painted him as in the first war. They would never be together as one big family otherwise. So, when the opportunity presented itself, and he had tried to be merciful for it hurt to see a child being punished, he ensured that Tommy was exiled. He recalled Wilbur’s subtle manipulation and decided that if he could make it more apparent, more easy to see, then he could turn things more in his favor and jumpstart the seed of doubt that he had any good morality left in him.

The first time his rival Technoblade looks at him with distrust in his seemingly nonchalant stance, Philza slightly glaring at him at the pink haired man’s side, he remembers smiling so wide under that mask of his that he almost felt afraid his face would split into two. And later, when he went to the base he kept the discs in, he laughed and laughed, chest constricting as a feeling of helplessness made its way through his veins. 

Almost all of his attachments were gone, but one important piece of leverage remained, one that he knew would make him crumble; the Community House. So, with a heart of glass, already crumbling and bruised, he sets it aflame and watches as the last remnants of his friendship with George and Sapnap fades into ashes and smoke. Bright viridian eyes dulled until a greyish tint made itself known and visible, or as visible it could be with a mask covering his face, making him look even more inhumane and nothing like the damaged man he truly was. 

He almost collapsed later that night, fingertips stained with ash and the scent of smoke trailing behind him. He felt numb as he clutched at his aching chest, brain struggling to find a reason he was in pain and thus creating its own. Guilt crashes into him in waves, and a sudden and irrational anger causes him to punch at a tree. Pain made itself known in his knuckles, and it pulsed through his fingers, leaving them bruised the next day.

“Prepare yourselves, for tomorrow, at three in the afternoon, Techno, Phil, and I will lay waste to your precious L’manchildburg.”

The words tasted like ash on his tongue, and his chest ached so much, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not while they still weren’t all together yet, not while they wouldn’t all team up to fight him and him alone. As he walks, the scent of something rotting briefly flashes through his senses before disappearing into the slight breeze.

He was blind to the way Techno and Philza glanced at him with the slightest traces of concern when he begins to cough, the relentless attack lasting for many minutes as he his body struggled to rid itself of the painful pulsing ache in his chest that made him feel as though he’d burst into pieces. He shrugged away their concerns, they needed to hate him just like all the others, and he had no room for error. So, with the coldest tone he can muster, he denies their help and further alienates himself from them.

He gains a fever later that night, and he spends his time sick and miserable. Vomit covers the grass underneath him, and lines of acidic fluid run down his chin. He collapsed to the side, rolling and clutching his stomach in pain. It hurt so badly, he just wanted it to stop. Tears come to his eyes unbidden, and he stomps the urge to cry down with all the power his miserable being can muster.

It approached quickly, and he set up the TNT, mouth still tasting slightly of vomit and nose smelling something rotting again. He quickly downs a god apple, and his pain goes away, fever subsiding for the remainder of the decimation of L’manburg. At some point, he feels well enough to sing, and so he does; right in front of Tubbo, and more importantly, in front of Tommy he sings a warped version of the anthem of L’manburg. Rage shows bright and burning in both boy’s eyes, and Dream smiles under his mask, his plan is working.

When he reaches a small clearing, one he had been sleeping in he immediately passes out, and he remains so for two whole days only to be rudely awakened from the sensation of foxes nipping away at his skin. He sat up, and the foxes jumped back, clearly surprised, before bounding away. Dream goes to the river to finally clean his mouth out, and only he knows that soon the final confrontation will happen, and the big bad villain of the server would be locked away. He knows it will hurt being locked in an obsidian room all say with nothing but a clock and books, but he would do anything for the people of this world, especially George and Sapnap, even if it meant driving himself to insanity and parading around as the tyrant, even if it meant making himself out to be a monster. 

He is blind to the pain it will cause him, and he is already oblivious to the pain he’s in.

He met Tommy and Tubbo on a mountain and showed them the “disks,” and he even placed one in the jukebox. The hope in their eyes upon receiving it made his heart clench painfully as he knew they weren’t the original ones, but he could at least find a sliver of content as they moved about with renewed vigor in their steps. But all good things must come to and end eventually, and so he grabbed at their hope and shattered it.

“Put all of your items in the pit.” He hates the way Tommy seems to shrink in on himself. He absolutely hates himself for what he has done. He hates so many things at that moment, but he could only push forward with the knowledge that Punz thought he would be betraying him without his knowledge, that they would come through the portal when he had them both in his evil grasp, that they would be there when Tubbo was at death’s door. He smiled slightly under his mask, and so it began.

“Who am I without you?” “Yourself”

Tears are shed, apologies made, meaningless conversations had, and Dream stepped forward, intent on making it seem as though he really was going to put an end to Tubbo’s last life, when almost the entire SMP stepped through the portal. Dream knew he could take them all on; after all, he is an admin, it would have been child’s play when not all of them were completely in armor, but he surrendered instead. 

“Put your armor in the hole, Dream.” The voice is full of mocking, and its volume only adds to the headache it created earlier on in the day, but Dream couldn’t bring himself to care as he threw all of his items in the pit. Of course, he cares even less for the armor he places in the pit, it was shoddy and not very well made for him, especially since he crafted it for this specific battle. 

He was led away with the trembling hands of Sapnap who still cared so much, but Dream knew how to put an end to that, and so he did. Harsh, biting words act like a double edged sword, piercing them both, but Dream is already blind to his own pain, so what’s wrong with adding a little bit more? It’s a known truth that villains deserve pain, and he was more than happy to comply with such a golden rule. 

And it is those events that leads him to where he is now. Lava blocking off the cell and consequently suffocating him, raw potatoes that he knows will make him sick, a failing immune system that had him vomiting onto the floor from another intense fever.

Will you eat the food and get sick or not eat, go hungry, and get sick anyway?

It hurts, but he doesn’t know how to cope anymore, he is blind to his own self. Oblivious to his own emotions to a depressing point, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe, he is already lost.

Tommy visits him, and he’s the only person to visit him since he was put in there. Dream can barely muster enough energy to stand, and the rotting scent that seems to have been following him wherever he goes only strengthens. He is met with mocking words and homework of all things. And when Tommy leaves, the headache that has already become an expected constant when around Tommy slowly fades away, and he is left in his cell, alone.

When Sam comes to deliver food later that night, he seems almost sympathetic, but the broken man can’t allow that. If even one person sympathizes with him, then it’s over, and all of the pain he put them through will have been for nothing. So, he spins tales of what he did to Tommy while the teen was in exile, painting the bad things he did so vibrantly Sam would have had to be delusional not to see them. From that point onward, Sam seems as cold as the Arctic to him, all warmth lost to a never ending snowstorm that Dream sometimes worries will leave him feeling cold on the inside. 

He stares into the corner of his cell, listening to the constant ticking of his clock. A sudden feeling of loss fills him, and a wave of grief knocks the breath out of him. Tears come to his eyes, and unlike in the past, his goal is accomplished, so he, for the first time in months, lets down his barriers and sobs. Tears run down his face, and snot drips down from his nostrils. It hurts, it hurts so, so much, but he doesn’t know why. The poor little blind man, ever so aware of his surroundings yet oblivious to the pain he locks deep within. A pain strong enough to make him physically ill, a pain strong enough to rot his brain. Shivers make his body spasm, and loud sobs echo throughout his small obsidian room, sounds becoming trapped and unheard by anyone but Dream himself.

Eventually, he gives up, he doesn’t want to move anymore, he doesn't want to eat anymore, and he doesn’t even want to play the fun game of swimming in the lava. He’d rather suffocate quietly on the deadly fumes. It’s what he deserves. He’d rather never eat another potato again because villains deserve to starve. He doesn’t want to live anymore, because he’s so alone. The isolation eats away at him, and each day he resides in his cell the smell of corpses becomes stronger and stronger, and he thinks nothing of it until he begins to cough up blood and encounter frequent nose bleeds But, despite the fact that he now knows he’s literally rotting alive in this small cell, he can’t bring himself to care anymore. Besides, Sam hasn’t brought him food in a while now, it’s all automated, and it has been for a while. 

Tired eyes stare at the chest in front of him, books lay scattered, food lay rotting in the water, and Dream is tired. They all must be so happy, and for that he is grateful that his plan worked, but he just doesn’t know if he has the willpower to continue on any longer. He feels so weak, so tired. His eyes slip shut, and approximately one month later, Tommy visits again, intent on getting Wilbur back so he can see his new hotel.

The boy goes through all the steps, Sam’s warm voice guiding him all the way, and finally, they reach Dream’s cell. The lava is drained away, and they see Dream, seemingly asleep in his cell. Tommy looks over at Sam, uncertain on whether or not he’s allowed to continue, but the warden nods, and so he steps on the platform, and is transported over. The lava falls back slowly, and in that time, Tommy notices something strange, Dream doesn’t appear to be breathing. The median separating them is lowered, and he cautiously walks over and nudges Dream’s body with a beaten shoe. Nothing happens. He turns Dream over, and horror creeps through his veins, Dream’s mask is gone, and in its place lay a sunken face, eyes open and dull. He drops the body and yells for Sam, panic and freight cutting through the air like a knife.

The lava is lowered slowly, and the creeper hybrid flips a lever that creates a complete, unmoving bridge. He rushes over and observes the man, checking all of his pulse points and doing other tests, but the results all end the same; Dream is dead. That day, the world begins to crumble. Without an admin, and even a ghost would do, the world would die. So, it falls apart and everyone is forced to leave, all of their new trauma and belongings being carted away. And the most disappointing thing; they don’t even feel remorse for the admin until years later when the truth hits them like a shockwave, when it makes them shake with the intensity of an earthquake. He was only trying to help, and now he’s gone. And his two closest friends, when they find out, fall into a depressive spiral, only brought out by a spectral figure who loves green and laughs like a tea kettle. 

In the end, Dream muses as he stares at his friends as they lay curled together on the bed, it didn’t really matter anyway. The thought makes something ugly spread in his ghostly chest, and so he ignores it as he trained himself to do. Poor little blind man, he thinks, blind to the terrible truth that being hurt and causing hurt, enough to leave damage that’ll last forever, wouldn’t matter at all in the end anyway. He smiles a bitter smile and runs a hand through Sapnap’s hair Well, enough of that, he has some friends to take care of.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed, and if i missed any warnings or tags feel free to share and I'll do my best to fix it. :)


End file.
